The Hitchhiker
by C.S. Bascom
Summary: No galaxy, makes you feel bad for the badguy, weird huh?


The Hitchhiker

The rain was at a slight drizzle, but with the aid of a rough wind, the Hitchhiker was very miserable. He had on a long dark trench-coat, which he kept closed by crossing his arms at his waist and leaning into the wind. The small bag on his back was being kept dry by being kept underneath the man's coat. But in doing so, it caused a strange budge, and a draft about his legs and hips. When the wind died down momentarily, the Hitchhiker lifted up his head and looked down the road behind him. Nothing.

All night, nothing.

How was he supposed to get into the car of an unsuspecting do-gooder and rob him blind when there _were_ no unsuspecting do-gooders? With a sigh, the hitchhiker looked back at the muddy earth, and trudged on. He walked for miles, in the cold in the wet, and nothing to show for it.

He had a good run last week, though. A poor man had picked him up, and merely wanted conversation.

"Where ya' going?" the man asked.

"How far can you take me?" the Hitchhiker asked.

"Hitchhiking across the country?" the driver asked.

"Nah, I'm just something of a drifter," Answered the Hitchhiker. His hand was in his bag, fingers around the gun.

"It's dangerous out there; I'd be careful Mr…?"

"Burk, my name is Simon Burk," The Hitchhiker lied. He wasn't about to rob this man blind and leave him with his real name. The conversation went ideally on, until the Hitchhiker found it time to do what he came to do. He pulled out his gun, demanded for all the money in the man's wallet. After the man found fumbling for his wallet and driving at the same time difficult, the Hitchhiker asked for the whole wallet, and got it promptly. The Hitchhiker demeaned for the man to pull over, after which he got out. The Hitchhiker slammed the door, and walked away into the dark.

But no, not this night. Not a soul on the road. The wind died down again, and the rain seemed to let up for the moment. Taking this opportunity, the Hitchhiker looked up again, and saw that the road turned up a hill soon. "Great," he thought, "I'm cold, I'm wet, and I'm hungry. Now I have to walk up hill too," he mumbled in the dark. With a sigh he turned around to look along the dark ribbon of road he had been walking on.

There, off in the distance, just coming over the last hill, were head lights. The Hitchhiker almost jumped for joy.

"Finally," he said aloud. He quickly turned around and pretended not to notice. And after a moment, a small car pulled up beside him. The driver side window rolled down, and a man's voice came out.

"Need a lift?" He asked. The Hitchhiker turned, and saw a kind looking man, in his mid to late thirties. He had an almost to-nice smile on him, but the Hitchhiker didn't care, he had a gun.

After looking around in a "Let me think about it" way, the Hitchhiker said "Yeah."

"Great," the man said, "Here, put your stuff in the back, and hop on in." The man bent down to unlock the trunk.

"I'd rather carry my stuff with me, if you don't mind," said the Hitchhiker, who didn't want to be separated from his gun.

"Um, sure. Would you just go back and close the trunk? I already popped it and…" the Hitchhiker nodded and disappeared before the man could finish.

He lifted the trunk, to get more of a push down on it. He glanced absentmindedly inside, and saw a bundle of rope, and a bow saw. Without a second thought to the matter, the Hitchhiker closed the trunk with a thud.

As soon as he got into the car, the man put his foot on the gas, and drove off. The Hitchhiker looked around the car. They didn't seem too rich, but the man must at least have a credit card he could live off of for a week or so. He looked to the back set, and was taken back by what he saw.

A woman, laying the whole length of the back, seemed to be in labor.

"Um, your wife is, um…" The Hitchhiker started awkwardly.

"Oh, yeah, we're on our way to the hospital. She started her contractions about a half hour ago, we should make it."

The wife flashed a smile and gave a slight wave before she went back to trying not to give birth in the back set.

"Listen," said the Hitchhiker, very amazed at what he was about to say, "You guys seem really busy, you can just drop me off. I don't live to far, I can walk, really."

"Oh no no no no no!" Said the driver, shaking his head, "It's really no trouble at all. Really."

The Hitchhiker looked back to the woman, she muttered "no problem," a few times.

"Hey," said the man, the Hitchhiker's head whipped back to him. "Where 're we taking you, anyway?" The man asked.

"Um, er, as far as you can take me, really."

"Oh, trying to hitchhike across the country?" He asked. The Hitchhiker was a bit annoyed that everyone he robbed asked that. He rolled his eyes and said;

"No, I'm hitchhiking across the galaxy."

The man found this very amusing, and laughed a deep, jolly, laugh.

"Across the galaxy, that's a funny one. You're a funny man, aren't you? I could tell first thing when I saw you. I said to myself, I said 'George, that man there, looking into your trunk, is a funny man there,'" He wiped a tear from his eye.

The Hitchhiker squinted his eyes, something about the way he said that didn't seem right. Why did he mention the trunk? Wouldn't it have made more sense to just say "That man there, is a funny man?" Maybe this man _wants _people to think about his trunk.

Well, if he did, it worked. The Hitchhiker's mind found itself sitting back on the rope and bow saw in the trunk.

"George is it?" Asked the Hitchhiker, knowing if things got weird, he always had his gun. George nodded. "I've been told a few times hitchhiking is dangerous, and just to settle my paranoia, why do you have a bundle of rope and a saw in your trunk?"

George nodded again, "Do you want the long answer, or the short answer?"

George's wife made a sound of pain. Her face tightened, and she seemed to wince all over. "We're almost there, babe," he said loudly, back to his wife. The Hitchhiker was looking at the poor woman.

"Well?" George asked, causing the Hitchhiker's gaze to shift suddenly.

"The short answer, I guess. I don't wanna be rude and fall asleep to your long answer." The Hitchhiker tried to smile.

George laughed merrily, "Oh, I hear you man. I can be long winded. Just ask the misses. Right honey!" he shouted to his wife again. She moaned.

"Anyway. I'm afraid of trees," Said George. He looked over to the Hitchhiker, who had a very confused look on his face. When George saw this, he laughed again.

"See, now I bet you _want_ to hear the long story, don't ya?" he asked.

"Sure, why not. We have time to kill," the Hitchhiker said. Forget robbing him, he thought, he should just blow the man's brains out.

"Well," began George, stretching his arms while still holding on to the steering wheel. "About five years ago, on a night just like this," he mocked the classic scary story beginning. "The wife and I were out driving. I forget where we were driving to, though. Do you babe? No? Okay, anyway. It was raining out, harder than this, but I had it under control.

"Or at least, I thought I did. See, the wind picked up, and a tree fell over the road, nearly taking out our car. I had to stop very quick, but the front of the car got smashed in, and the glass of our wind shield was all shattered." He paused and looked at the Hitchhiker, who was mildly entertained. He had his hand around the handle of his gun. This man disserved to get robbed.

"Anyway, I got out and looked at it. I got soaked, and went back in the car for warmth. We didn't have any phones or anything, so we couldn't call for help. It was dark out, and neither of us felt like walking through the rain and the dark to get help. So, he used our jackets as blankets, and curled up in the back and tried to sleep."

"So," asked the Hitchhiker, not seeing completely. "Where do the rope and saw come in?"

"Oh, well. I didn't have a saw to cut up and move the tree at all, and I had no rope to defend against Werewolves." He said calmly.

"Werewolves?" Asked the Hitchhiker.

"Oh yes. They hate rope. They're like dogs, you see." Explained George, "And if you've ever had a wild dog, not wild as in from nature, but just excited all the time, you know they hate being leashed. Oh they bark and howel, and try and bit though the rope, especially if they aren't trained.

"We had a big dog once, remember honey? Yeah, what was his name? Oscar? Yeah, Oscar was a good dog. Shame what happened, though."

"What happened?" Asked the Hitchhiker, pulling back the hammer on his pistol.

"Oh, well. One night, about a year ago, right honey? Right, anyway, about a year ago on a Friday night, I let him out. For an evening walk, you know. Well, he usually comes back when I called him, but that night he didn't.

"So, I figured, he'd come back when he was cold and ready. And so I went to bed. At about two in the morning, we heard this eerie, blood curtailing death-cry from a dog."

"Oscar?" Asked the Hitchhiker, knowing the answer.

"Yep, I went out with a flash light and I found his half eaten body a ways into the woods. Horrible sight, horrible sight."

"And you think Werewolves killed him?"

"Oh there's no doubt. Werewolves hate dogs. They think of them as traitors. See, despite popular belief, a Werewolf is actually a wolf most of the time. It only turns to a _human_ on full mooned nights, and that's if they want to. They're very clever, those Werewolves."

"Were do you teach, George," Asked the Hitchhiker, going off on a hunch.

"How did you know I was a teacher? Can you read minds?"

"No, its just that, you must know a lot about early European history, to know so much about Werewolves. I mean, the only other way you'd know so much is if you _were _a Werewolf." The Hitchhiker added a nervous laugh, hoping his drawing skills were up to par.

"Oh, no, I'm not a Werewolf," said George, "I mean, it isn't even a full moon."

The Hitchhiker gave out a audible sigh of relief.

"You didn't actually think I was a Werewolf, did you?"

"Actually, for a moment, I did." Admitted the relived Hitchhiker.

"If I was a Werewolf, how could I learn to drive, being a wolf most of the time? Also, why would I have a dog if I was a Werewolf? Honestly, have you listening to a word I've said?"

The very foolish feeling Hitchhiker shook his head. He let his crazy imagination and paranoia get away with him again.

"But then again," George said, "You never know. I mean, with Werewolves being so clever and all, I could have made all that up. If I was a Werewolf, you'd never know!" He laughed, and the Hitchhiker shared a nervous laugh too. After all, he was right.

"I mean, if I was, I could kill you so fast. I mean, they have amazing reflexes. Werewolves that is. Faster than a cat's. Hell, I bet they could dodge a bullet, if one tried."

There was another pause.

The Hitchhiker thought during that pause. "I understand the bow saw," his mind traveled back to the contents of the trunk, "But what about the rope?"

The Hitchhiker was about to open his mouth and share his thought, but George bet him to it.

"Anyway. The wife and I are there, in the dark, in the cold, in a smashed and totaled car. With no saw, and no rope." He finished went on with his story, we was getting hungry.

"And we hear howling, from all around this howling came. It woke us up, and she was scared." He bobbed his head back to gesture to his wife as he drove.

"And so I got up, to see what all the fuss was about. When I got out there, I saw little lights in the woods. I had my flashlight on, but I didn't need it really. It was a full moon. Anyway, and the howling gets louder and louder, and closer and closer. But it was shifting all around, you know?" he turned quickly to look at the Hitchhiker, who nodded.

"And then, when I heard a noise from behind, I spun around and saw this massive wolf, as big as a deer, looking down the road at me."

The Hitchhiker wanted to ask what happened next, like a little kid hearing a scary story around a camp fire. He got his hand ready to pull out the pistol and get it right into the face of the man.

"It attacked, and, hey!" he suddenly had a gun in his face. The sudden intrusion to his field of vision made driving a little more difficult.

"Alright, Werewolf, give me all your money. Your whole wallet. Just give it, I don't shoot, I don't get eaten." He spoke in a very rushed and choppy manor.

"Now, didn't you listen?" asked George, very calmly. "I told you I wasn't a Werewolf." The Hitchhiker's world became very rushed and blurry. When it calmed down, he was on the roof of the car, looking up at George. He had changed, somehow.

"My cousin's a Werewolf. I'm a vampire." He bit down on the Hitchhiker's neck. The Hitchhiker went stiff, then fell limp. He didn't bother the streets anymore. George's wife gave birth to a bouncing baby in the morning; his canines were already coming in.


End file.
